Hypothermia:The World's Deadliest Poison
by PromisedRainbow
Summary: While solving a case, Jesse finds himself alone with two killers. What will happen? Sorry really bad at summaries. First Fanfic. Rated because of violence and because I'm paranoid. *A/N on chapter 6*
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Prologue

( **A/N) Well, look at that. My first Fanfic. I know it's not the best, and I know, I'm writing about C.S.I Miami. It's been a while since I've actually seen it, so I'm sorry if some of the info is incorrect. I'm not even sure if anyone is still even reading stories about C.S.I Miami. Oh well. To the few people who are reading this, criticism is welcome.**

 _I knew the minute I stepped through the door, something was wrong. There wasn't the usual fresh fragrance of dinner on the stove. There were no songs blaring from Tracey's iPod. And the drawers were open and junk was all over the floor. Something was wrong. I reached for my gun, un-holstered it, and cautiously stalked across the living room, towards the master, where Tracey kept her jewelry. If a thief were here, they would most likely go for the most expensive item._

Oh Tracey, I hope you safe. The defense classes had better be worth it, _I thought._ If _anything_ were to happen to you… _I couldn't go there. I shook my head. Don't think like that. Suck it up. She's ok._

 _Gun raised and on high alert, I slowly approached the door. I reached for the doorknob, and… "Jesse!" I raised my gun and swiveled towards the hall._

" _Tracey," I sighed. Holstering my gun, I ran over. With Tracey in my arms, the scent of her hair surrounding the air, finally safe, my shoulder finally relaxed. Tracey was safe, and that's all that matters. "Oh thank goodness."_

" _Hon', what's wrong?" she asked, lifting her head from the crook of my neck._

" _Sweetie, there was a mess in the living room, and-"_

 _Tracey grinned and burst out laughing. I raised an eyebrow, confused._ Looks like I missed something, _I thought. "Hon' that_ mess _was because I lost my iPod. I basically flipped the whole house over looking for it." I grinned, but it slowly faded. I hugged her even tighter this time._

" _Jeez, you got me so worried." We rocked side to side in complete silence, just enjoying each other's presence._

" _Well, time to make dinner," Tracey announced, wiggling out of my arms. I grinned, and together, we made dinner, laughing and chatting like it was any other day._

 _But it wasn't._

 _The next day after work, I came home, and there was blood on the carpet. Blood. Bile started to slip up my throat. I swallowed. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This has to be a dream._

 _Un-holstering my gun for the second time in 24 hours in the house, I pursued down the hall, following the drag marks. I swallowed and reached for the doorknob that had blood smeared on it. The master bedroom._

 _I opened it, and the sight knocked out the air out of the chest. This can't be._

 _Tracey, covered in blood, was sprawled on the bed. I dropped the gun and rushed over. "Tracey, Tracey," I said, cupping her head with my hands. Her eyes fluttered open, and I felt relief rush into me. She's alive._

 _I looked towards her body, and I froze. So much blood. Too much blood. My hands fumbled to her shirt and I slowly peeled it off her. There was a deep stab. Too deep._ I can't do anything, _I thought. I shook my head. Stop. Don't give up. 5 years. 5 freaking years. Don't let a knife get in your way. I stripped off my shirt and held it against the wound. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911. Please don't be too late._

 _After I hung up, I looked at Tracey. Her blue eyes were foggy, and tears trickled down her cheek. Blood stained her long, brown hair, and her face scrunched up in pain. This can't be right. 5 freaking years of marriage. 5 freaking years of love, and this was what she got? This isn't fair. She was the kindest person I've ever meet, her smile and laugh contagious. And there she was, lying on the bed, blood flooding out of the stab wound. Tears trailed down my face, and I didn't dare to wipe them. I needed to spend every second with her._

" _Tracey," I croaked out. I wiped a tear from her cheek. "Honey, everything's going to be ok." She shook her head._

" _I can't feel anything, Jess. I can't feel anything," she whispered. I choked down a sob, knowing what it meant._

" _It's going to be ok. We're going to get out of here, and fly away to France, like you always wanted to. And you'll finally be able to finish the novel you started, and we can visit the If Eiffel Tower, and take all the pictures you want," I whispered._

 _She fought out a smile. "Promise?" she croaked._

 _I smiled "Promise." I held her hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze._

" _I love you Jesse," she said. And with that, she took her last breath._

My eyes flung open. I sucked in the air, my clothes soaked with sweat. I blinked rapidly, trying to see through the dark. I groaned through the gag, trying to sit up, only to fall down again. Tracey. Her smile was stained in my mind. I would give anything to see her again. After 7 years, everyday I thought of her, never forgetting that night. Not forgetting the time the ambulance came only a minute too late. How my coworkers arrived to investigate the scene. How I found the note on the night stand. A plain, typed note with 5 letters on it: _Catch me if you can._ How I remembered that Tony said, during the investigation, "Catch me if you can." But they had no hard proof. None at all that Tony, who was suspected of killing his wife, had killed Tracey.

I tried to wiggle out of my bounds. No luck. I tried to shout. No luck. I really wanted to punch something. Really, really hard. But right now, _I'm_ the one who's being punched _at_. Funny how the world works huh?

I shivered. Why is it so cold? Oh, right, I'm in a freaking fish storage building with a psychopathic killer and his accomplice who is also a psychopathic killer but twice as big and twice as bad. This is my punishment for being late to work, isn't it?

 _How'd I get into this mess anyway?_ I thought. _Oh right, the stupid alarm clock._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! I'm doing my best to write Horatio right, but I'm finding it very difficult. Lots of this chapter revolves around Ryan.**

 **My first chapter didn't come out as well as I hoped for, so I hope this one is better (and longer!)**

Chapter Two

 **1 hour before…**

My eyes fluttered open. I stretched out my legs, sighing. Another day of work at Miami. I squinted through the blinding light, trying to see the time. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I could finally see the time… 12:00 a midnight? What the…

 _Oh, right the storm,_ I thought. _Wait, if the storm turned off the clock… then…_ I stumbled out of bed and fumbled for my phone. It was… "9:00?" I shouted. Oh shoot, oh shoot.

I flew on my khakis and a wrinkled white button- up collared shirt. Tying on a loose, blue tie, I ran into the bathroom. After hurriedly brushing my teeth and attempting to comb my hair into place, I sprinted into the kitchen, grabbed a bagel, and ran into the car. I checked my phone for voicemails, and Horatio called three times. And that was thirty minutes ago.

Thirty minutes. Never have I ever been that late to work before. I could already imagine it. Everyone had already investigated the scene and collected the evidence. I walk in and everyone has to explain everything over again. It may seem a small thing to you, but if you're the person who's actually late, you will feel like everyone's judging you. You'll feel embarrassed that you're the only one late and that everyone has to take the time to explain things. Even if you know that they probably aren't judging you, you'll still have that feeling.

Remembering the address H gave me through the calls, I rushed out of the driveway, far too reckless for my liking. _Oh well,_ I thought. _I was going to need to fix the mailbox anyway._

I got my phone and dialed Horatio's number. After only the first ring, he picked up. "This is Horatio Caine."

"Hey H, it's Jesse. Look, I'm sorry that I'm late. The storm cut my power and the alarm didn't ring, so…"

"It's ok Jesse, Ryan's been having the same problems. We're investigating the murder of Jane Nathanson. Our suspect is the gardener, Michael Putman. He didn't show up for work today, and when we visited his house, he was gone. But what we did find was that he made a lot of calls to 'The Fisherman Storage'."

"Yeah I know the place," I interrupted. "I drive by it everyday."

"Good. Can you go and check it out? Natalia and Ryan are coming for back up. Do not approach until they arrive, understand?" he said.

"Yes sir." I hung up and wound through the traffick.

 **At the crime scene…**

Horatio looked up from Jane Nathanson to see a very messy Ryan. His usually neat hair was sticking out and his clothes were wrinkled, which was strange because of his OCD. He was running towards H, panting. "I am so sorry H, my alarm didn't wake me up, but I came as fast as possible," he said, slightly embarrassed. Horatio smiled and easily forgave him, because _his_ alarm didn't ring either. "So, what did I miss?"

H was about to answer when Walter cut in. "Jane Nathanson was murdered. Her husband found her when he came back home to retrieve a file he forgot and…" he faded when Ryan gave him a look. The 'I wasn't talking to you' look that made Walter blush. "Whoops sorry, I'll… just, um… go over… there and… um…" He slowly backed away, not sure of what to say. Once Walter was out of sight, they chuckled.

"So as he was saying…" Ryan said, insisting for H to continue.

"Walter's correct. Jane Nathanson's body was found when her husband, Carl Nathanson, forgot a file and drove back home. His alibi checks out."

"I'm no doctor, but I'm guessing that her COD was a stab wound," Ryan said, looking down at the body that Tom was examining.

"Actually, it is asphyxiation," the doctor said. "Mrs. Nathanson here was stabbed by that kitchen knife." He pointed at the tagged piece of evidence. "Not the best tool for a murder, but still very resourceful. The knife penetrated the lungs, causing blood to seep into it and suffocate her. She was dead within minutes." He shook his head. "The poor lady. She was suffocated by her own blood."

Ryan took one last good look at her before the EMT took her. Her layered black hair was soaked by her own blood. Her mouth was slightly open, and blood dripped out of it, reminding Ryan of a vampire horror story. He shuddered.

The stab wound penetrated her chest, and there was a blossom of dry blood around it. Her skin was deathly pale and her eyes were lazily open and clouded. They were staring right at him. He shuddered again.

The EMT lifted her gurney and drove off to the morgue. Ryan stared off at the truck. Jane probably had friends who were mourning for her death, who were crying because they'd never see her smile again, that they'd never hear her laughter just one more time.

And her husband. He couldn't even imagine what the Carl was going through. Maybe they were trying to have a baby, but now they can't. Maybe they were going to a vacation. But now they couldn't. Carl can't have that warm embrace from Jane everytime he came home from work. They can never have Friday night movies. They can never see each other again. Never again.

Ryan has never had to feel that feeling yet, to have someone you love, a husband, a wife, a girlfriend or boyfriend, who was so precious to you, stripped away from your arms. But that feeling was far too known in C.S.I. Horatio. Jesse. Two too many.

He's not sure how Natalia felt. Her ex-husband, Nick, beat her, so she wasn't in any way sad when he went to jail. He shook his head. Her own husband, who she had loved and trusted, beat her. Disgusting.

Ryan turned to see the husband, who was huddled on the ground, his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth, never looking up. Natalia was trying to ask him questions, but he didn't answer. He couldn't. Going through that event must have been traumatic seeing his wife dead in his own house. Seeing her blood on the ground, her body sprawled like an eagle.

The husband's usual strong build looked so feeble. He seemed about 6', but now he was hunched over, sitting on the ground. Ryan hated this. Carl was probably going to work, thinking that it would be an ordinary day, only to find his wife's body.

"There weren't any prints on the knife, were there?" Ryan asked. H shook his head.

"But… we do have a suspect," he said. Ryan raised his eyebrows. _Already?_

"Who?" Ryan asked.

Horatio smiled. "The gardener."

 **A/N: Well there you have it! My very first crime fanfic! Please tell me if I got anything wrong!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm back! I've been really busy this month, with vacation and all, but I'm writing as much as for the reviews! No matter how little there are of them, they are great inspiration to keep on writing!**

 **This chapter is very touchy like the last. Well, at least it was to me when I wrote it. To those who are getting eager to get to the action, I'm very sorry, I'll write as much as possible. If you don't think that I wrote it right, please tell me! I need a lot of writing advise!**

 **So without further ado, here is chapter 3.**

Chapter Three

"The gardener?" Ryan said, not sure if a gardener would be smart enough to hide his tracks. _Well, we have the internet,_ he thought. _And there are crime TV shows._

"Yes, his name is Michael Putman. He hasn't shown up to work today or picked up any phone calls from Carl," Horatio answered. "There aren't any solid leads, but Calleigh and Walter are giving him a visit."

"Well, at least we have something." Ryan sighed. Suddenly, H's phone rang. "This is Horatio Caine," he said. He listened for a few seconds, then said, "Ok, thanks Calleigh." He hung up.

"What's up?" Ryan asked, hoping that they had a lead on Michael.

"It seems that Mr. Putman has received several calls from a storage facility called 'The Fisherman Storage' an hour before the murder. Can you grab Natalia and check it out to see what they know about Michael?"

"Yeah, sure H," Ryan answered. "Hey Natalia!" he shouted to her. She looked up at him, and Ryan motioned for her to walk over to them. She said a few words to the Carl and walked over.

"What's up Ryan?" she said. As Ryan filled her in, Horatio's phone rang again.

"This is Horatio Caine," he said. There was a pause, then he said, "It's ok Jesse, Ryan's been having the same problems," then he went on to explain the case to Jesse, telling him about Jane, the gardener, and 'The Fisherman Storage'. "Good," he said after the explanation. "Can you go and check it out? Natalia and Ryan are coming for back up. Do not approach until they arrive, understand?" He said it clear enough so that Ryan and Natalia could hear. They both nodded and walked over to Ryan's hummer.

 **Jesse's POV…**

 _The Fisherman Storage, eh?_ I thought. _Oh the things that could be going on in a fish storage building._ The Fisherman Storage was a storage facility that (behold, the meaning of the name) fishermen could sell to, and the storage building would sell the fish to restaurants.

I wound through traffic, remembering everything Horatio told me. Jane Nathanson murdered, and her gardener is the prime suspect. Wow, so detailed.

 _I hardly know anything and before I know it, I'm heading to fish storage building. I feel so special,_ I thought.

I got pretty confused for why the gardener would murder Jane. What motive does he have? Didn't get a payday? He wants revenge for something that happened in the past? Man, the things that people would do for revenge.

I myself had wanted to have revenge. Tony, who was suspected, no, _did_ kill his wife, had been set free. That cufflink just had to disappear, didn't it?

After two days, he killed my wife. I was so sure about it. The note proved it. But it wasn't good evidence, hard evidence. Not for the jury. Not for anyone. And there I was, a dirty cop who was suspected of stealing evidence. For years I didn't know what to do. I would drink till the point where I forgot who I was. I would cry every night, because of the nightmares of Tracy's death. I would see her mangled body sprawled on the bed, blood seeping into the mattress, her breath ragged and her eyes flooded with tears. And every night, I would dream of her saying, "Why Jesse? Why did you have to steal the cufflink?" And then her head would drop to the side, her arms relaxed. I dreamed that at her very last moments, she blamed me. That those words were her last thoughts, even though they weren't, but no matter how many times I reassured myself that, I found myself crying in the corner of the bedroom.

For many months I was afraid of sleeping in the bed. The same bed that we used to share stories in, where we would snuggle close and watch movies together. The same bed that Tracy died on. I wanted to sell the house, I really did, but I knew that Tracy would have wanted for me to keep it. It held too many good memories. It was the first house we bought together. I couldn't let go of it.

But soon, my heart called me to Miami. Tracy loved the place, but LA was her home, just like Miami was mine. So I moved, hoping to start out fresh. But I still couldn't stop thinking about Tony. I wanted to see him rot in jail, and for everyone to know what he had done. I didn't want to kill him, because I knew the consequences. I knew that it wouldn't bring justice. But not everyone knows that.

Many people have done stupid things for stupid reasons. They would kill for wealth, for their job , for a secret, for revenge. A soul for their greed. A life for their greed. A loved on for their greed.

Every time I look at a new, lifeless body at a crime scene I get reminded of Tracey. I get reminded that that person's loved ones were, at that moment, grieving for the loss of a friend. Or maybe even deeper than that. A girlfriend or boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband or wife. They would have to go on with their lives without the love of their life, who they were planning to move in with, marry, and have a baby with. All those planes lost, and their hearts crushed. All for someone's greed.

That was what got me motivated to finish the case. I needed to reassure the victim's loved ones that the killer wouldn't be walking free, and would be punished for his wrong doing.

As I wound through the traffic, I looked through the window into another car. A woman and a man, possibly her husband, were shouting. The man, who was driving, was trying to calm down the woman, but she kept on flaiing her arms around, shouting about something. For the split second I had to observe them, I heard a muffled word. Mail.

I sighed and shook my head. People could argue about the smallest things. Mail, the laundry, vacation planes. But without them knowing, that argument could be the last thing that happened to them. Their loved one could pass away suddenly, and the last thing that they talked about was the stupid mail. I was lucky. In the morning of my wife's murder, I had to rush to get to a new case. I barely had enough time to grab breakfast, and Tracey was still asleep. I left her that morning without a simple 'good-bye' or 'I love you'. If I those were supposed to be my last moments with her alive, I would never forgive myself. Never. But she was still alive when I got home. Barely, but alive nonetheless. We got to say our 'good-bye' and 'I love you'.

But not many get that chance.

I arrived at the storage building in only five minutes. It wasn't far from my house, but by the address that Horatio gave me, the crime scene was at least a 30 minute drive away, even if Ryan and Natalia turned on the sirens, which they were only supposed to do in emergencies. I parked my car in the empty lot, and waited outside. I parked at the far end, trying not to draw too much attention.

I leaned on my car, tapping my foot on the ground, impatiently waiting for Ryan and Natalia to arrive. I played 'You're Beautiful' in my head, nodding my head to the beat. Suddenly, there was a rustle behind me. I turned around, earning a welcoming stare of a gun barrel.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi guys! I hope you all are enjoying this story. Sorry about the month wait… what it was only a week? Oh. Well any way, I had a HUGE writers block. Everything I tried to write came out wrong, but I guess this will have to do. Hope you like the chapter!**

Chapter Four

I sighed. Isn't anyone in Miami happy that I'm back and _not_ pointing a gun in my face?

My hand was instinctively on my gun, but I wasn't fast enough. One move to un-holster it, and I may die. Death. Black, endless nothing. Or heaven and hell. Holy or endless torture. Which was Tracy in? I shivered. _Don't think of that,_ I thought. I had to deal with the stupid gun first.

The young man seemed to be only 18, and he was about average height, 5'10'', and was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans. He would've seemed normal if it weren't for the gun he was pointing to my face.

I calculated the alternatives. I knew immediately that he wasn't a killer. Or a good one at least. His hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes were wide in shock, as if he were surprised that he was actually doing this. He clearly had black circles under his eyes, and his hair was messy and oily. Sweat glistened on his forehead, down his face and dropped on the ground. He wasn't a killer. He couldn't be.

I decided in the split second I had that he wasn't going to kill me at that instant. He was hesitant. That was a big hint. He wasn't handling the gun correctly either. Instead of having the left hand covering his right, he was holding the handgun with only his right hand with no supporting arm. This made it easy to disarm. My mouth twitched up in a slight smile. I loved it when they make it easy on us.

I glanced behind his shoulder for a millisecond. We were shielded by bushes, making it hard for me to see the road, and for the people on the road to see us. At least the boy's that smart.

I calculated all of this in a split second. And without another second of hesitation, I struck.

My right hand grabbed his right wrist, moved it to the left, getting the gun away from my face. Still holding his wrist I stepped towards him, turned so my back was to him, and elbowed him. Hard. He gasped and dropped the gun. I caught it and aimed it at him. _Well,_ I thought, _that was easy._ Man, was I wrong.

Just after I got hold of the gun, a shadow covered me. I spun around, only to be pinned down on the ground by a giant, his hands restraining my hands and his knees on my chest. The air was knocked out of my lungs. The man, even though I'm 6'2, was well double the size of me. His bulky features kept me on the ground, and even when I tried to resist, he didn't budge.

He was wearing a leather bulky leather jacket, and a scar ran across his face. I did _not_ want to know how he got that.

"Hey, boss," the man said, "we got a fighter." _Boss?_ I thought. _How is the eighteen year old the boss?_ But I had more things to worry about. My ribs screamed under the giant's weight, and my lungs could expand only barely, making me have to wheeze just to breath. Blackness started to creep into the corners of my eyes, but I shook it out. _Can't sleep now,_ I thought. He took my gun from the holster, and put it into his inside jacket pocket.

Suddenly, with his hands still pinning down my wrists, he got off of me. Black dots formed in my eyes from the sudden release of pressure, and I took in a deep breath. My lungs ached, and my ribs were sour, but other than that I seemed ok.

The man released my wrists, but before I could do anything, he grabbed his own gun and aimed it at me. I rose slowly, leaning on my elbows, a bead of sweat dripping from my forehead. There wasn't much I could to him. If I threw a punch at him, he probably wouldn't even flinch. _Where are Ryan and Natalia when you need them?_

"Should I dispose of him, Sam?" the bigger man said, not taking his eyes from me. I swallowed. Jeez, why do I keep getting myself into these situations? Crap, what am I gonna do? Die alone with two psychopaths? _No,_ I thought. _No, There'll be another way._

The other, Sam, on the other hand, seemed to be hyperventilating. He was pacing behind the man, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

"This wasn't supposed to happen no one was supposed to find out did Michael tip them no he's long gone did he dispose of the phone calls probably not stupid I should have told him how this can't be happening it was only supposed to be Jane no one else is supposed to die and if we do kill him what would we do with him…" he went on like this, mumbling, pacing and massaging his temples. I raised my eyebrows. He was the murderer? No way. I felt so hopeless. There I was, a cop who was supposed to catch people like him, and there he was, walking a free man. And there was nothing I could do about it. Yet.

"Sir…" the man said, trying to inform him of something.

"There may be others what if the police know and are coming they'll find my prints even if we tried to clean the place and I'm in the system stupid thing to steal from that liquor store I knew that it would bite back at me maybe we can initiate Plan B is the water still cold yes I believe it is but we'll only have a few minutes and even if we do the helicopter may not be ready and then the police may catch us…" _Plan B… cold water?_ I thought.

"Sir…"

"And then we'll go away for life absolutely no chance of having parole and bail and I'll never go to college or get married or have children and have a job oh man what will dad think surely he'll get that I did it for mom right or maybe he'll be angry at me and never forgive me I won't be able to face him but Plan B may be the only way killing him would be far to reckless…"

"Sir…" the man said, glancing at the very paranoid Sam.

" _What is it Lane can't you see that I'm thinking?"_ Sam shouted. A vein popped out from his temple, just like a cartoon.

"Sir, you caught a cop." Sam halted. He looked at me, his eyes wide. A few seconds went by before he said anything.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," he said. Lane bent over and grabbed my badge from my belt. He handed it to Sam.

"It seems legit," Lane noted. His mouth twitched up in a smile. "Never caught a real cop before. Got a fake one once, with forged credentials and everything, but never a real one." I shuddered. _What's this guys hobby, murderi… Oh wait,_ I thought. I winced. _This is not gonna be pretty._

Sam began to pace again, fingering my badge. "Killing him is too reckless. The police already know about this storage building and they'll find evidence of us, even if we tried to clean it. What about the Plan B?" he asked, glancing at Lane.

He shook his head. "No offence Sam, but Plan B is the worst plan I've ever heard of."

"No, no. I've changed the plan. No direct contact. We call from the disposable phone. That's how we negotiate with them."

"But sir, we don't know whose coming or what their number is," Lane questioned.

Sam kept on pacing, thinking of a plan. Suddenly, he stopped pacing and looked at me. "Lane, tie him to a chair." Lane glanced at me, than at Sam. He shrugged and hauled me up to my feet. Pressing the gun to my spine, he urged me forward.

"If you even _try_ to escape, I will shoot you, and your spine will never work again, got it?" Lane whispered into my ear. I ignored the threat and walked on. I remembered what to do in a captive situation. Minimal eye contact. Do not speak unless in dire events (like, I don't know, the captor has anger management issues and is about to shoot a woman). Do not answer captor's question unless someone else's life is at risk.

We arrived at the storage's door. Lane nudged me with the gun. "Open the door." I obeyed, and soon we entered the very cold storage building. Lane, still holding on to me, grabbed a chair from a corner. He shoved me in it and grabbed rope from his pocket. _Interesting,_ I thought while he was binding my feet and hands. _He brought tools for a kidnapping._ I could picture his morning. Lane would say, "Let's see. Got my keys, wallet, phone, gun, rope, knife, and gloves. Ok, I'm good to go." I shook my head slightly.

"Lane!" Sam called. Lane looked at me, than trudged off to Sam, who was waiting by the door. Sam went on to explain something to him, pointing at directions. I strained my ears to hear, not exactly successful.

I fidgeted in my restraints, testing them to see how strong they were. It was tough rope, I'll give him that, and the knots were tight, but even though Lane seemed experienced enough, he didn't pat me down. I kept a pocket knife in my pocket. Hey don't judge me. Who knows when you need it?

I cringed as the rope tugged on my skin, scratching it and causing it to bleed. I cursed silently. Stupid ropes wouldn't budge. If there were a way to get the knife…

 **Ryan's Hummer…**

Their ears were filled with honking of horns and the sound of the engine running from hundreds of cars. They were crammed in the middle of traffic, on one of the busiest highways in rush hour. At this time everyone was rushing to work or to send their kids to school, making Ryan and Natalia's time to the storage facility double. Ryan grumbled something like 'should've taken local' and honked his horn impatiently. "Jeez Ry," Natalia mumbled, "patience."

"Don't call me Ry," he responded, his face turning into a slight pink.

"Aw, is little Ry Ry blushing?" Natalia said in a baby voice. Ryan's cheeks turned bright red, and he ducked his head down, embarrassed. Natalia chuckled lightly. _Why didn't I think of saying that earlier?_ she thought. "Hey, _Ryan,_ what do you think the holdup is?" she asked. Ryan shrugged, and tried to sit up taller to see over the traffic. Fortunately, the cause of the traffic was nearby.

"What the…" he started.

"What is it?" Natalia asked eagerly. She rose up from her seat. She saw a police car flipped upside down on the side of the road. Multiple other police cars surrounded it, as well as an ambulance. "Jeez what happened?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Maybe we should…" Before Ryan could finish his sentence, his cell phone rang. He picked it up and immediately put it on speaker. "Hello?" he said.

"This is Horatio. Ryan, I have some news about Mr. Michael Putman."

Natalia raised her eyebrows. _I hope they found him,_ she thought. She remembered that they had put out a BOLO for his car, an old, black Toyota Camry. She thought that it would have taken them longer to find him.

"Ok, what's the news?" Ryan asked.

"Michael claims that he didn't murder Jane Nathanson, and that he knew nothing of it."

Natalia scoffed. "Well then how does he explain why he ran away?" she asked, knowing that all murderers say that excuse.

"Well Ms. Boa Vista, he said that a caller from The Fisherman Storage had told him to drive away the morning of the murder and that they would pay him 5,000 dollars in return."

Ryan whistled. "Well, can he prove that?" he asked.

"He provided us the money. All of it was accounted for. We're sending it to the lab to be analyzed right now."

"Wait so if the callers from the storage facility made that call, then they would be the murders," Natalia said. "Oh shoot." She got out her phone and dialed Jesse's number.

No response.

She tried again.

No response.

"Jesse's not answering," she said, panicking. Ryan cursed and turned on the sirens.

"H, we're heading to the storage building," he said. Horatio said that back up was on the way, and hung up. Ryan honked his horn, and gradually moved forward. The cars attempted to move to the side of the road and to the side lanes. But out of all the noise the sirens were making and Ryan's honking, they didn't see the car that was speeding their way down the empty lane. And soon, the two C.S.I's found themselves tumbling on the road, just like the police car on the other side of the road had.

 **Well, that didn't come out as well as expected, but I hope you liked it! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I can't believe it. For once in my life time, I don't feel like writing.**

 **Hey guys, it's me again, planning to do another chapter. The last one seemed to completely fail, but I hope this one is a bit better. Sigh. Well, here goes nothing.**

Chapter Five

Of all the situations she was in that day, she found herself in a crushed car. Of course, this was Ryan's hummer, so all in all, Ryan should be the one moaning and weeping about the crushed car. Not that he could of course, because right now, he was unconscious next to Natalia with a cut on his forehead.

Natalia has had better days. Days when they _didn't_ find themselves in a car crash, days when Jesse _would_ pick up his phone, days when her head _didn't_ feel like exploding. Shaking her head, she started to unbuckle her seat belt.

It took her a while to remember what happened. _H called,_ she thought, _he called saying that they… what was it about? Oh gosh… right. They found Michael, and he said that the storage building bribed him. And were driving there because Jesse wouldn't answer his stupid phone, and…_

Ryan moaned and stirred, drawing Natalia from her thoughts. "Ryan, took you long enough," she mumbled.

"What the… what happened?" He looked around, and saw the chaotic scene. A ton of people were shouting and scrambling out of their cars. Police from the last accident were arriving to the scene, trying to get people out of the way. He looked behind them and saw a blue Nissan smashed into the rear of his hummer. "Oh you have got to be kidding me!" he grumbled. He started to unbuckle the seat belt and climb out of the car. Natalia followed, and they examined the situation. Ryan started to grumble something unintelligent, and the police finally got people to move out of the way.

Natalia grabbed her phone and called Horatio. He answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey Horatio, its Natasha. Look, long story short, there was a car crash and the hummer's going to need repair,"

"Is anyone hurt Natalia?" he asked worriedly.

"No, Ryan and I are fine."

"Okay, what about the driver?" Natasha looked around. She was so caught up in the case that she didn't even think about the driver. Stupid.

She saw Ryan and shouted to him, "Hey Ryan, where's the driver?" He shrugged and went back to talking to an officer. She returned the conversation to Horatio. "He's not here," she replied.

"Okay Ms. Boa Vista, stay there. Calleigh's going to come to pick you guys up."

"Okay, we'll wait." She hung up and turned to Ryan. "So mystery driver huh?"

"Yeah, witnesses say that he headed that way." Ryan pointed to the forest next to the highway.

"Well, we should let the officers handle this. Calleigh's coming to pick us up, and we're heading to the storage building," Natalia said. Ryan nodded and glared at the hummer.

"Great. Now my car's ruined," he grumbled. Natalia patted him on the back. And they stayed there, waiting for Calleigh to come and pick them up.

 **Jesse's POV…**

I tugged on the rope some more, hoping that it might loosen. It didn't budge. I was attempting to slide my hands to my pants pocket and retrieve the pocket knife, but the bounds held. And of course, the two men were making an evil plan to try to escape without being found. But really, all they had to do was runaway on a remote island of some sort, create new identities, forge passports and ID's and _bam,_ it'll be like you've vanished. Of course, it wasn't _that_ easy, but it was somewhere around those lines. But Sam is a bit too paranoid, and he has no contacts.

The two finally finished their talk and walked over to him. Sam seemed more confident this time. He had a slight smile on his face and he walked surely, as though the plan would work.

Lane on the other hand seemed very annoyed. His face had a deep frown on it and his face was flushed with anger. He seemed to want to abandon the whole thing all together and just run off, but Sam probably hired him. He can't go anywhere if he wants his money. And he wants the money bad.

I felt so tiny sitting in the seat next to the two men, even though one of them is shorter than me. I looked up at them, craning my neck.

"Lane, I'm going to get the water. You stay here," Sam said. Lane grumbled something unintelligent.

"This plan's not going to work," he said.

"Yes it well," Sam snapped. "It's not like we have any other choice."

"Yeah we do," Lane grumbled. "Get some fake passports and ID's leave this place and never come back." But Sam was already going to another room to 'prepare the water', whatever that means. Then he turned around and looked at Lane.

"Lane?" He nodded. "Make him look sick." Lane suddenly grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"With pleasure boss."

 **Ryan's destroyed hummer…**

The satisfying sight of Calleigh's hummer had finally come to view. The traffic started to get a bit faster, and in about ten minutes Calleigh was parked at the scene. She got out of the car and raised an eyebrow at the hummer. "Mighty mess you guys got into," she said. Natalia grinned, but Ryan continued to glare at the blue Nissan, even as they got into Calleigh's hummer.

"So ya'll, what's up with the mess?" Calleigh asked optimistically while turning on the sirens. Ryan frowned, and Natalia laughed. "No really, what happened?" Calleigh asked cluelessly.

"Well I'll tell you what happened," Ryan growled. "A lunatic crashed into _my_ hummer for no reason, and when we get him, I'm gonna sue his as-"

"Wow Ryan, jeez, calm down!" Natalia chuckled.

"Calm down? Calm down!? It was _my_ hummer that he crashed into! It's going to cost a fortune to repair!"

"Don't you have insurance?" Calleigh grinned.

"Yeah, but-"

"Well then, problem solved," Calleigh stated. Ryan mumbled unintelligent. "Well, I think we have bigger problems then the hummer. The killers may be in the storage facility, and Jesse's over there," Calleigh said, suddenly sounding dead serious. "You've called him right?"

"Yeah," Natalia replied. Ryan grabbed his phone and called Jesse again.

"Yeah, he's not picking up," he declared.

"Well, we'd better hurry then," Calleigh smiled, and surged forward. Well, as much as the traffic would allow them to.

 **A/N: Sorry, that was a short chapter. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N): Hello fellow readers.

Wow, how long has it been now? Six months? Goodness gracious... Please don't hate me.

I feel _really_ guilty about not updating this one for such a long time. I read over it, and I noticed all these weird angst and hurt/comfort moments that weren't necessary, and I feel like the plot was just ridiculous. But hey, that could just be me.

And apparently I like the name Sam so much I used it again (unintentionally) in my new story for my antagonist. Sorry about that Sam. And coincidentally, I used names Lane and Sam. As in Ed _Lane_ and _Sam_ Braddock, from my favorite TV show of all time, _Flashpoint_. And Sam's my favorite character, so I don't know what's that about.

Do you guys want me to continue or rewrite? Please tell me!

Thanks and have a great day.

-PromisedRainbow


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N): Hey guys. So an anonymous reviewer encouraged me to finish the story, so I'm gonna give it a shot. It only took one person (yeah, I'm that sentimental). I might want to write the rest of the story before publishing it, or maybe not, who knows. The next chapter might take awhile to get out because a) I haven't seen CSI Miami in about 2 years, so it might take awhile to get motivated for it, and b) I don't really know what I was thinking about when I started writing this. The plot is still a it wonky, and I'm going to try to reread the previous chapters to try to understand what I was trying to write. And I realized when trying to write the next chapter that I'm a bit out of my element, because this isn't really my writing style. So fingers crossed.**

 **Thanks so much for the review Anonymous, it really means a lot. Your review made me really excited! I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope the next chapters are good enough.**


	8. Chapter 8

**(A/N): So… here it is.**

 **This took a lot longer than I expected. I'm sorry for the wait. I tried to organize the plot a bit, balance my activities** _ **and**_ **my other story. And I haven't seen an episode of CSI Miami in a while, so the characteristics and terms might be a bit iffy. I tried to spruce up my memory by watching a little, but I'm still a bit (ok, a lot) shaky. Hope it's ok. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own CSI Miami… if only.**

Chapter Six

 **Jesse's POV…**

 _Make me look sick?_ I thought, eyeing Lane as he cracked his knuckles, an uneasy smile on his face. He turned to me, his hands balled into a fist. _Woah woah woah._ I stiffened, eyes widening slightly as he pulled back his fist. _Oh you've got to be-_

My head snapped back as his knuckles struck my cheek. Hardly given the time to recover, he started again, right on my temple. I blinked, the blackness daring to overcome me. Lane drew back his hand again. I grunted as his fist landed on my other cheek, his punch nearly knocking out a tooth. My jaws tightened as my hands clawed at the rope, my fingers blistering from the rough string, but my grip loosened as Lane's fist continued to strike, and as blackness consumed me.

 **A while later…**

I was startled awake from the cold.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open. I shivered. Why is it so cold? Oh, right, I'm in a freaking fish storage building with a psychopathic killer and his accomplice who is also a psychopathic killer but twice as big and twice as bad. This is my punishment for being late to work, isn't it?

 _How'd I get into this mess anyway?_ I thought. _Oh right, the stupid alarm clock._

Lane and Sam stood over me, a bucket of water between them. My clothes were drenched, ice laying on my lap. I shivered, my teeth chattering. I shuddered in a breath as more water was poured on me. I coughed out water from my lungs, trying to breath properly. The two continued to pour until all the water was gone. I gasped, the cold air chilling me.

Lane and Sam went on to the next bucket without a word, the cold ice and water gushing down me. After what seemed liked hours, they were done. They moved on without hesitation to remove my restraints and hauled me up. I stumbled along across the warehouse with Lane holding a gun behind me, and Sam retying my hands.

I staggered beside the two. They led me outside the warehouse, and the warm Miami air soaked into my cold skin, sending a shiver through me. I basked in the sun for mere seconds before we were at a truck. They hauled me into the back container, and I noticed the frosting on the sides, and the cool air rushing out. I instinctively planted my feet on the ground, but Lane pushed me inside. My hands tried to brace the landing, but they were bound behind my back. I landed on my shoulder, grunting as I skidded on the rough surface. I scrambled to my knees as Sam closed the container door, enclosing me in the freezer.

Shakingly getting up, I went to the door. Scanning the doors, I turned my back towards it and grabbed the handle by my tied hands by standing on my toes. But it didn't turn.

"You've got to be kidding me," I grumbled to myself as I looked over the freezer. It was a container for moving frozen goods, with boxes still left in the corners. The walls were covered with a thin layer of frost, and I could see my breath when I exhaled.

Sucking in the chilled air, I felt the piercing cold enter my lungs. Coughing, I kicked the door, trying to test its strength.

Yep, hard as stone.

Suddenly, I reached into my back pocket of my pants, but felt nothing. Sighing, I relaxed my hands in defeat. "Now you found the time to search me."

I wandered aimlessly around, searching for something to help me. There were no other exits out, and the only other thing that was in the container with me were boxes of unloaded, smelly fish. I immediately closed it, my nose wrinkling at the putrid smell.

I paced the freezer, trying to ignoring the cold clothes sticking to my skin, and the water still dripping from it. I felt the uncontrollable shivers racking through my body, and my still aching head from Lane's little session on me.

Curse him and his giant fists.

 **Calleigh's hummer…**

Calleigh steadily drove through the traffic. They searched for the nearest detour, but seemed to go nowhere. Each minute stuck on the road seemed to take years, and Ryan's obnoxious fingers, which had been drumming on the car window for the past few minutes, didn't help.

Calleigh and Natalia continued to talk about the case, while Wolfe went over the details from a file. He didn't seem to notice a glare coming from the front seat.

"Ryan... Ryan… _Ryan!"_ He jolted up slightly, the file almost flying from his hands.

"What-hi, hi I'm here," he stuttered, trying to compose himself. The two in the front giggled, Ryan's glares only adding to their laughter.

"We've arrived at a detour," Calleigh finally said, wiping tears from her eyes.

"And can the drumming stop?" Natalia added on, quirking up an eyebrow at him as she twisted around her seat. Ryan replied with a grin.

Calleigh dodged through the remaining cars and made it to the exit. She let out a breath of relief. "Geesh, I thought we'd never get out of that place." They drove through the less crowded streets, getting closer and closer to the warehouse.

Finally, the building was in view. They pulled up to the empty lot, and say Jesse's car in the far corner, hidden by bushes. Calleigh pulled up next to it, and they emptied out of the hummer, approaching Jesse's.

"Well, no one's home," Calleigh announced, her face pressed to the window.

Ryan looked around the parking lot. "H said told him to wait here."

They approached the warehouse cautiously. Natalia opened the door, the groaning hinges echoing through the building. They stepped in, guns in hand, and was welcomed with a blast of cold air, and the view of a single chair near the center, with a puddle around it.

 **(A/N): What do you think? Total trash, and I should scrap it? Or I should give it another shot? Criticism is welcome. Hope the characters weren't too OOC.**


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N): Whoo! Next chapter! Sorry I got this later then I hoped for, but here it is! I had a bit of a harder time getting this one out, but here it is!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own CSI Miami… sigh**

Chapter Seven

 **Jesse's POV…**

It was a few minutes in when I felt the truck moving below my feet. Lurching forward, I almost lost my footing as I stumbled along the slick floor. I cursed under my breath, trying to gain my balance as I felt the truck move along the winding back road. I gave the door a good kick again. Still nothing.

I saw a metal bolt on the other side that was as thick enough to hold in the Hulk before I was pushed in. Sighing in defeat, I knew that I wouldn't be able to break it down. Not in my conditions at least.

I walked around the freezer, trying to get warm enough to control my shivers. Even my hands were trembling, even though they were tied so strongly it felt as though they were glued together. I realized I couldn't feel my toes; the only thing I felt was a strange tingling feeling that shot through my legs. But all I could do was uselessly pace the small confined space, my body shaking at every step.

 **Ryan's POV…**

We walked through the warehouse silently, unsure of what to expect. I motioned Calleigh to the one side of the warehouse, and for Natalia to go up the stairs. They nodded and branched out, stalking along the echoey halls. I cautiously walked around the middle of the warehouse, looking to the sides at the lurking shadows around the corners. The building wasn't too big, and we went through a brief sweep in a few minutes. Once the other two shouted out, "Clear!" I made my way back to the center of the warehouse, holstering my gun.

Natalia and Calleigh walked toward me, their eyebrows furrowed at the chair sitting in the middle of the large room, a puddle sitting around it. I kneeled down, squinting at it. "The chair's still dripping," I commented, and got up. "They were just here."

"Well, the question is who's the 'they'?" Natalia mumbled under her breath, glancing around the storage house. Calleigh bent down, examining the chair as I pulled out my phone, dialing in Horatio's number. After a ring, he answered. "Horatio."

"Hey H, it's Ryan. We're at the fisherman storage facility, but Jesse's not here."

"Was his car there?" he asked.

"Yeah," I started, "but we searched the building, and there's a chair with a cold puddle of water around it. It seems like someone was here recently." I examined the chair's back, seeing strange scratch like markings. "And it looks as though there's some type of marking on the back of the chair, too." I looked down at Calleigh, and she was reaching for something attached to the bottom of the chair.

"Alright," H said, "I'm on my way."

I almost pressed the hang up button when I remembered. "Oh wait H, there's a traffi-"

"-jam," he interjected, "yes, I know." He hung up, and I looked at my phone for a second before stuffing it into my pocket. _Well H has it all sorted out, doesn't he?_ I thought to myself before looking back at Calleigh. She was still bent down, tugging at something at the bottom of the chair. Calleigh jerked it down, and she held up a small disposable phone with her glove.

"Huh," Natalia said, eyeing it peculiarly. "Interesting. We should du-" She was interrupted by a sudden ringing from the phone. We all flinched slightly at the sound, and Calleigh looked warily at us. I nodded, and she opened it cautiously, putting the on speaker. "Hello?" she said.

There was a slight pause at the other end. " _He's here with us,_ " said a deep voice at the other end, the sound slightly distorted.

"Who is this?" Calleigh asked, raising an eyebrow at us. I glanced around. _He knew we were here,_ I thought, looking for a visible camera. _How else would he know when to call?_

" _If we see a patrol car, or a cop in our sight, we'll make sure he doesn't have enough limbs to walk,"_ the voice said, ignoring Calleigh's question.

"Sir, I need to know who is calling before I patch in this request," Calleigh said. "We just want to resolve this situation without hurting anyone."

" _If you obey,"_ he kept saying, " _he'll live to walk another day._ " The he hung up.

We stood in silence for a second. Then Natalia asked the question we were all asking. "Is he talking about…"

"Yep," I answered. "They've got Jesse." Natalia and Calleigh looked at each other before glancing back at me. I sighed, dropping down my head in defeat. "We're not gonna wait for H, are we?"  
Natalia was already getting up. "Nope."

"And we're not gonna be listen to the man's orders, are we?"

Calleigh followed Natalia toward the car, the phone in her hand. "Nope," she shouted over her shoulder.

I huffed, glaring as I trudged behind them. "Does Ryan care?" I grumbled to myself. "Nope, he's just tagging along. No one cares about his opinion, do they? Ryan do this, Ryan do that, geez, why does…" Soon, my grumbles were lost within the echoes of the building as I hurried along, not wanting to be left behind.

I ran across the parking lot to Calleigh's hummer. It's engine was already running, and I started to open the car door. I heard Natalia say something about calling the manager when I when a shout came from behind me. "Excuse me!" I swirled around to see a man coming from his truck, emerging from the building's shadow. "What were you doing in there?"

I pulled out my badge. "MDPD. We had a lead in here."

The man's eyes widened. He combed his hand over his hair. "Wow, um… was there any trouble?"

"No sir," I replied as Calleigh and Natalia came out of the hummer. "May I ask what your business here is?"

"I'm Jason Moore, the transportation manager here. I'm doing a routine check on the vehicles."

"We're sorry to disturb you," I said. "If there's anything suspicious that you see, give us a call." I was about to tell him about the chair sitting in the middle of the building when he spoke up.

"Actually, that's why I came," Moore said. "I usually come by in the evening, but one of the trucks was activated without permission."

I looked back at Natalia and Calleigh. Natalia spoke up. "And when was that?"

"About…" He looked at his watch. "About an hour or so ago." We looked at each other.

"And you're sure this wasn't some sort of mistake, Mr. Moore?" I asked.

He nodded his head. "Yes sir. We installed GPS' in each one after there was a theft a while back. There's never been a glitch in the tracker. I called the driver, as well as the owner of the warehouse. Both of them didn't know or give permission about a drive."

I almost burst out in a smile. A tracker in the truck. Our luck has come. Moore lead us back inside and into his office. We walked past the chair ("Just ignore that," I said) and he opened his computer and pulled up the trackers. All of the trucks were in the back of the warehouse, all except for one single little dot on the monitor. And that was the one we were going after.

 **(A/N): Wow, interesting progression. What do you guys think? Criticism is welcome!**


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